THE FERRY.
I had not been in Baltimore three days when my plans were somewhat
altered by the introduction of a fresh agent. The guide, who accompanied
Lord Hartington and Colonel Leslie, had returned unexpectedly, and
Symonds pressed me strongly to secure his services. He had made the
traverse several times successfully, and was thoroughly acquainted with
most of the ground on both banks of the Potomac. He had now made his way
on foot from the Shenandoah Valley, across the Alleghany Range, to
Oakland; thence by the cars to somewhere near Sykesville, on the
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. Here, the day began to break, and he would
not trust farther to the short-sightedness of Federal officials; so he
looked out for a soft place in a snowdrift, and leapt out, alighting
without injury. The same reasons that made reticence useless in Hoyle's
case apply here: to both men Republican justice has done its worst long
ago. My new guide's name was Shipley. He was lying _perdu_ in Baltimore
when I first heard of him, so there was no difficulty in arranging an
interview. After some hesitation, and not a little negotiation, Shipley
agreed to pilot me through by one route or another. He was to ride my
second horse, and keep the animal as a remuneration for his services, so
soon as we should be fairly within Confederate lines. He would not
promise to start before the expiration of a full week, as the clothes
and other necessaries which he had come specially to obtain could not be
got ready sooner. This new arrangement involved two changes which did
not please me, viz., the elimination of poor Alick from the party, and
the shifting of my saddle-bags from the roan on to Falcon, for the guide
stipulated that each should carry his own baggage. Symonds, however, was
very urgent that I should close with the conditions at once; he had the
highest opinion of Shipley's talents and trustworthiness, and insisted
that such a chance should not be let slip. He promised that Alick, if
possible, should be provided with a mount, so as to be still enabled to
accompany us. _I_ could not, of course, be expected to increase my
already double risk in horse-flesh.
So we struck hands on the bargain, and I resigned myself pretty
contentedly to another delay. The days passed rapidly, as they always
did in Baltimore on most afternoons. I rode Falcon out for exercise and
"schooling." He soon became very clever at the only obstacles you
encounter in crossing this country--timber fences, and small brooks with
steep broken banks; though, to the last, he always would hang a little
in taking off, he never dreamt of refusing.
Before the week was quite out, Alick came down from Symonds', bringing
tidings of our late companions, the two Marylanders. They had succeeded
in crossing by a horse-ferry at Shepherdstown--a small village not far
from Sharpsburg, and about seven miles from the battle-field of
Antietam. The letter was written from the south bank of the Potomac, and
furnished us with all the necessary names and halting-points on the
route. Now, everything looked promising again. It was soon settled that
Alick and Shipley should make their way across the country to Sharpsburg
with the two horses (this was the latter's own arrangement, and _he_,
too, was unkind enough to object to my un-citizenlike appearance). I was
to meet them there, at a certain house, on a certain day, traveling by
another route--through Frederick city. Thither I betook myself by the
train leaving Baltimore, on the afternoon of March the 10th, arriving at
Frederick nearly two hours behind time, in consequence of a difficulty
between the wheels and the rails, the latter having become sulkily
slippery with the sleet that came on in earnest after nightfall. Very
early the next morning I started for Petersville, near which village, in
the shadow of the South Mountain, lay the country-house of the
good-natured friend who had offered to forward me to Sharpsburg.
I shall not easily forget that drive; the distance was rather under
fourteen miles, and it was performed in something over four hours; yet
the load consisted simply of my driver, myself, and my saddle-bags, in
the lightest conceivable wagon, drawn by a pair of horses especially
selected for strength rather than speed. We traveled on a broad
turnpike, not inferior, I was told, in ordinary times to the average of
such roads; in many places the mud literally touched the axles, and more
than once we should have been set fast in spite of the struggles of our
team, if I had not lightened the weight by descending into a quagmire
that reached fully half-way up my thigh-boots.
At last we struggled through, reaching my friend's house with no other
damage than some strained spokes and a broken spring. There I found
horses ready caparisoned, and a faithful contraband to guide me on my
way. The ride was as pleasant as the drive had been disagreeable. It was
positive rest to exchange the jolting and jerking of the carriage for
the familiar sway of the saddle. I had a strong hackney under me, a
bright clear sky overhead, and a companion who, if not brilliantly
amusing, was very passably intelligent.
He was able to tell me all about the South Mountain fight: indeed, our
route lay right across the centre of that bloody battle-ground. Riding
along the valley, with the hills on our left, we soon came to
Birkettsville: close above was the scene of the most furious assaults,
and the most obstinate struggle. The quaint little hamlet--reminding you
of a Dutch village--looked cheerful enough now, as the sun shimmered
over the dark-red bricks, and glistening roofs grouped round a more
glittering chapel-cupola; but one could not help remembering, that
thither, on a certain afternoon, in just such pleasant weather, came
maimed men by hundreds, crawling or being carried in; and that for weeks
after, scarce one of those cozy houses but sheltered some miserable
being moaning his tortured life away. The undulating champaign between
the Catoctin and South Mountains, that forms the broad Middletown
valley, seems to invite the manoeuvres of infantry battalions; but,
climbing the steep ascent in the teeth of musketry and field-batteries,
must have been sharp work indeed, though the assailing force doubtless
far outnumbered the defenders. I think the carrying of those heights one
of the most creditable achievements in the war.
The terrible handwriting of the God of Battles is still very plainly to
be discerned; all along the mountain-side trees--bent, blasted, and
broken--tell where round-shot or grape tore through; and scored bark,
closing often over imbedded bullets, shows where beat most stormily the
leaden hail. Near the crest of the mountain, there are several patches
of ground, utterly differing in color from the soil around, and
evidently recently disturbed. You want no guide to tell you that in
those Golgothas moulder corpses by hundreds, cast in, pell-mell, with
scanty rites of sepulture. Besides these common trenches, there are
always some single graves, occasionally marked by a post with initials
roughly carved. It is good to see that, after the bitter fight, some
were found, not so weary or so hurried, but that they could find time to
do a dead comrade--perhaps even a dead enemy--one last kindness.
Descending from the ridge, we rode some way up a narrow valley--where
overhanging pine-woods and soft green pastures, traversed by rapid
streams, reminded me often of the Ardennes--and then climbed the Elk
Range, beyond which lies the field of Antietam. We soon crossed the
creek, along whose banks was waged that fierce battle that made men
think as lightly of the South Mountain fight as if it had been but a
passing skirmish, and I rode up to the appointed meeting-place in
Sharpsburg just a few minutes in advance of the appointed hour.
My first question, after making myself known to the good man of the
house, was naturally, of my horses and men. Will you be kind enough to
fancy my feelings, when I heard that they were miles away, and--the
reason why. Three days before the ferry-boat had been carried away and
shattered by the floods; nothing but a skiff could cross till a cable
was rigged from bank to bank; there was no chance of this being
completed before the beginning of the following week. The neighborhood
was too dangerous to linger in; there was a provost-marshal guard
actually stationed in Sharpsburg: so my men, hearing of the disaster on
their road, had very properly remained at their last halting-place,
about ten miles farther up the country. I was so savagely disappointed
that I hardly listened to my new friend, as he proceeded to give some
useful hints on our route and conduct, whenever we should succeed in
getting over the river. I only remember one suggestion: "if I was
stopped anywhere this side of Winchester, I might give a fictitious
name, and say that I was going to visit _my son_, an officer in the
Federal army." Now, as I have barely entered on my eighth lustre, I can
only suppose that the great bitterness of my heart imparted to my face,
for the moment, a helpless--perhaps imbecile--look of senility. I had no
alternative, however, but to retreat, as my men had done; the place was
evidently too hot to hold me: already, through the window, I saw a
shabby dragoon paying auspicious attention to my horses, contraband, and
saddle-bags. I was greatly relieved, on going out, to find that the
warrior was too stupidly drunk, to be actuated by anything beyond an
idle, purposeless curiosity. So, after receiving directions as to where
I was likely to rejoin my companions, I set my face northeast again, and
rode out into the deepening darkness with feelings not much less sullen
than the black rock of clouds massed up behind, that broke upon, us,
right soon, with wind and drenching ruin.
My horse, as well as I, must have been glad when we reached the
homestead we were seeking, for throughout the afternoon I had ridden
quickly wherever there was level ground, calculating on a night's rest
in Sharpsburg. I had some difficulty in convincing the farmer that I was
a true man and no spy; having once realized the fact, he showed himself
not less hospitable than his fellows. I was not surprised to find my men
gone; with all his good-will to the cause, their host had not dared to
entertain such suspicious strangers longer than twenty-four hours: keen
eyes and ready tongues were rife all around, and we had proof already,
in poor George Hoyle's case, how quickly and sternly the charge of
"harboring disaffected persons" could be acted upon: he had sent the men
to separate secluded farm-houses, whence they could be summoned at a few
hours' warning. He strongly advised me to wait elsewhere till the horse
ferry was reestablished, of which he promised to give me the very
earliest intelligence: so I at once determined to take the Hagerstown
stage to Frederick next morning (the house stood not many yards from the
main road), and the rail from thence back to Baltimore, leaving men and
horses in their present quarters. It was evident that the honest
Irishman spoke (he was an emigrant of twenty years' standing) thus in
perfect sincerity, from no lack of hospitality, though in poor mood for
conviviality. I did strive hard, all that evening, to meet his simple,
social overtures half-way, simply that I might not appear ungracious or
ungrateful.
The homestead nestles close to the foot of the South Mountain, near
Middleton Gap, some miles north of the point where I had crossed that
day. We talked, of course, about the battles (they were within sound,
though not sight, of Antietam). I found that a field-hospital had been
established in the field immediately adjoining the orchard, and that
some of the wounded, chiefly Confederates, who could not be moved, had
lain there for many days. I asked the good wife how she felt while the
Southern army was marching past her doors, "Well," she said, "I wasn't
greatly skeared, only I thought I'd pull down the new parlor-curtains;
but they behaved right well, and didn't meddle with nothin' to signify;
not like them Yankees, who are always pickin' and stealin'. But I'd like
to get right out of this country, anyhow; we'll never do no good here
while the war lasts."
I wonder how many voices, if they dared speak out, would join in the
dreary "_refrain_ of those last few words?"
No note-worthy incident marked my journey back to Baltimore. I remained
there till the following Tuesday, and, in that interval, received a note
from Shipley, which both puzzled and disquieted me; it was purposely
vague and obscure; but, as far as I could make out, the writer thought
it would be better at once to make for some point northwest of
Cumberland--to retrace, in fact, the route that he had himself recently
traversed; I rather inferred that he meant to move in that direction
without waiting for me, leaving me to make my way to a rendezvous which
he would appoint by letter. Now, of all parties concerned in the
expedition the one whose safety I valued next to my own was Falcon. I
had been loth to trust him, so far, to a rider about whose
qualifications I knew nothing--except that it was very unlikely he would
have good "hands." I had no notion of risking the good horse, without
me, on an indefinitely long journey, where he might be indifferently
cared for. I wrote at once to stop any such movement; and with this I
was forced to be content.
Late on the Monday evening, the expected summons reached me--sent
specially by train. The next morning I started for Frederick, whence I
intended to drive through Middletown to Boonesborough, near which was
the place of meeting. The first thing I saw in the morning paper, when I
began to read it in the cars, was a fresh general order, suggestive of
most unpleasant misgivings. General Kelly had just succeeded to the
command of Maryland Heights, and of the division specially selected for
picket duty on the river. This--his first order--enjoined the seizure of
all boats of every description between Monocacy creek and St. John's
(comprising the whole of the Upper Potomac); no passenger or merchandise
could be conveyed from Maryland into Virginia without a proper pass, and
then only at the two specified places--Harper's Ferry and Point of
Rocks; any one transgressing this edict was liable to arrest and trial
by martial law.
Throwing down the ill-omened journal, I could not forbear a muttered
quotation: "The day looks dark for England." Nevertheless, I drove on
straight from Frederick, determined to prove what the morrow would bring
forth. It was late when we reached the small roadside hotel, on the
ridge of the South Mountain, where I had arranged to halt for the night;
but, late as it was, I had time to hear fresh evil tidings before I
slept.
The Shepherdstown ferry was in working order at noon on the Monday. The
same evening, soon after dusk, four mounted men, with two led horses,
rode down, requiring to be set across instantly. The ferryman objected,
stating that his orders were imperative against putting any one over,
after sundown, without a special pass. The men insisted, stating that
they bore dispatches from Kelly to Milroy, and enforced their demands
with threats. The unhappy ferryman was totally unarmed, and only wished
to escape. They shot him to death without further parley, under the eyes
of his mother and sister, who saw all from their windows. Then they
ferried themselves and their horses across, and left the boat on the
Virginia, bank, after knocking out two or three of her planks. Naturally
there was a great revulsion of popular feeling in the country, and there
had been a real _émeute_ round the murdered man's grave. When they had
buried him, that day, in Sharpsburg, no one, suspected of Southern
sympathies, could venture openly to appear. From all that I could learn,
the authors of that butchery were not Confederate soldiers, or even
guerrillas, but purely and simply horse-thieves, who had come over with
the sole object of plunder, tempted by the enormous prices that
horse-flesh could then command in Virginia.
Very early the next morning I had a visit from the Irishman, who lived
hard by. Things did not look less gloomy when I had heard what he had to
tell. To begin with, that unlucky tongue of Alick's had been doing all
sorts of mischief. He never touched strong liquors, so there was not
even that excuse for his imprudence. Instead of remaining quiet in the
secluded retreat to which he had been, sent, he would persist in hanging
about in the immediate neighborhood of Boonesborough, and appeared to
have spoken freely about our projects, greatly exalting and exaggerating
their importance; indeed, he could scarcely have said more if we had
been traveling as accredited agents between two belligerent powers. Such
vainglorious garrulity was not only intensely provoking, but involved
real peril to all parties concerned. I thought the Irishman was
perfectly right in taking that blundering bull by the horns, and acting
decisively on his own responsibility, inasmuch as there was no time to
communicate with me. He insisted that the Alabamian should quit the
neighborhood without an hour's delay--there had already been talk of his
arrest--furnishing him with certain necessaries and a few dollars on my
account. In despite of the edict aforesaid, there were still punts and
skiffs concealed all along the river bank, and a footman unencumbered
with baggage could always be put over without difficulty. Indeed, Alick
had actually crossed into Virginia, and returned safely, while he was
loitering about Boonesborough. I never saw the Alabamian again, though I
heard from him once, as will appear hereafter. He carried away with him
my best wishes and my revolver; I hope both have profited him. Where
caution or diplomacy are not required, his sterling honesty and dogged
courage will always stand him and others in good stead; if his superiors
can only tie up his tongue, I believe they will "make a man of him yet."
As to Shipley, I found that it was not considered prudent for him to
await my arrival there, as a search might be made over the Irishman's
premises at any moment. He had been sent back on the previous afternoon
to a house near Newmarket, a village some thirty miles east of
Boonesborough, so that we must almost have crossed on the high road
leading to Frederick city; there I was certain to find both him and
Falcon.
The Irishman was decidedly of opinion that to persevere in our
enterprise at the Shepherdstown ferry or anywhere in the immediate
neighborhood, would be not only the height of rashness, but absolute
waste of time. He advised our striking northward at once, by the
Cumberland route, which then appeared to be the only one offering
possible chances of success. Even on the Lower Potomac, the _cordon_ of
pickets and guard-boats had been so strengthened of late as to become
well nigh impervious, and captures were of hourly occurrence.
Slowly--and I fear rather sullenly--I admitted the justice of my
friend's counsel, as I walked down to his stable, where the roan had
been standing since Alick's departure. Perhaps even while I write, the
war-tide is surging backwards and forwards once again past the doors of
that cozy homestead; but I trust its roof-tree is still inviolate by
fire or sword, and that no rude hand has scorched or torn the "new
parlor-curtains," in which my trim little hostess took an innocent
pride. It was past noon when I bade farewell to my friends, and mounted
the roan, to strike Shipley's back trail. There was a light blue sky
overhead, though the wind blew intensely cold, and hoofs on the hard
frozen ground rang as on pavement. For the first eighteen miles or so,
which brought us to Frederick, my horse stepped out cheerily enough,
though he carried far more weight than he had yet been burdened with, in
the shape of myself and full saddle-bags. Here we baited, an obscure inn
which had been recommended to me as "safe;" and late in the afternoon
held on for Newmarket. I found the farm-house I sought without any
difficulty, but the owner was down in the village, a mile or so off.
Without dismounting, I asked to see the mistress, and a thin,
sickly-looking woman came to the door. At my first question--relating of
course to Shipley--a glimmer of distrust dawned on her pale, vague face.
"There was no one there except her own family, and she had never seen or
heard of a man on a brown horse." I was too thoroughly inured to
disappointment by this time to feel angry--much less surprised--at
anything in that line. Evidently I had to do with one of those
impracticable yet timorous females--strong in their very weakness--who
will persist in bearing a meek false-witness till the examiner's
patience fails. So my answer was quiet enough. "Pardon me, I think your
memory is treacherous. You surely must at least once in your natural
life, have seen or heard of 'a man on a brown horse.' But if you have
known nothing of such a remarkable pair within--the last month for
instance, I fear you can't help me much. If you will tell me where to
find your husband, in Newmarket, and allow me to light my pipe, I'll not
trouble you any more." These benevolences the pale woman did not
withhold, but she saw me depart with a wintry smile, and I heard her
distinctly mutter to a handmaiden--fearfully arid and adust--who peered
over her mistress' shoulder, "There's another on 'em, _I_ know."
I found the husband in Newmarket, easily enough--at the "store," of
course: this is invariably the centre of all gossiping and liquoring-up,
in such villages as cannot boast a public bar-room. When I delivered
certain verbal credentials, he was disposed to be more communicative
than his spouse; but his information was not very clear or satisfactory.
It appeared that on the previous morning, some hour before dawn a man
had knocked at the door and asked for shelter: from the description, I
at once recognized my guide and Falcon. But, for once, Shipley's
over-caution told against him: he not only declined to give his name,
but would not state, precisely, whence he came or whither he was going:
there were many Federal spies about, laying traps for Southern
sympathizers; so the former got suspicious, and instead of welcoming the
stranger, prayed him to pass on his way. This solitary instance of
inhospitality is thus, I think, easily accounted for. I could not blame
my "informant;" but the state of things was enough to chafe even a meek
temper: the roan's long legs had begun to tire under the unwonted weight
before I reached Newmarket, and he rolled fearfully in the slowest trot;
yet I had sworn not to sleep before I laid my hand on Falcon's mane, and
I felt, with every fresh check, more savagely determined to keep the
trail as long as horse-flesh would last under me. I knew there were few
places in that county where Shipley would dare to trust himself even for
a night's lodging: some of his relations lived within half a league of
Symonds; and, if he meant fairly by me and mine, he was certain to
advise the latter of his return: so I resolved to push straight on for
my old quarters. Between me and the wished for _gîte_ there lay sixteen
miles of hilly road--darkling every minute faster.
I do not care to remember that dreary ride--or rather, walk--for two
hours, at least, of the distance were done on foot. For awhile I had
pleasanter companions than my own sullen thoughts: a pair of blue-birds
kept with me, for two or three miles at least, fluttering and twittering
along the fences by my side, with the prettiest sociability--sometimes
ahead, sometimes behind--never more than a dozen yards off; their
brilliant plumage shot through the twilight like jets of sapphire flame:
I felt absurdly sorry when they disappeared at last into the deepening
blackness. I had been warned of the probability of encountering a
cavalry picket somewhere on my road: so I was not greatly surprised when
the possible peril became a certain one. I was riding slowly up a low,
steep hill, about ten miles from Newmarket (I think the two or three
houses are dignified by the name of Rockville), when I saw the
indistinct forms of several horses, and the taller figure of one mounted
man, standing out against the clear night-sky on the very crest of the
ascent. I drew rein instinctively; but in that particular frame of mind,
I don't think I should have turned back, if the gates of the old Capitol
had stood open across the road. So I jogged steadily on, trying to look
as innocently unconscious as possible. Seven or eight horses were
picketed to some posts outside what I conclude was a whisky store; the
troopers were all comforting themselves within: the intense cold had
probably made the solitary sentinel drowsy, for his head drooped low on
his breast, and he never lifted it as I rode past. I could not attempt
to make a run of it, so I did not quicken my speed, when the danger was
left behind: indeed I halted more than once, listening for the sound of
hoofs in my rear, in which case I meant to have made a plunge into the
black woods on either side, so as to let the pursuit pass. Hearing
nothing, I dismounted again, and strode on rather more cheerfully.
The roan was not more glad than his rider, when we groped our way up the
lane, leading through fields to Symonds' homestead. The good wife came
out quickly, in answer to my hail, her husband being absent, as usual.
"Oh, Major," she said, "I can't say how glad I am to see you. Shipley's
so anxious about you: he hasn't been gone half an hour."
"And the brown horse?" I broke in.
"He's in the stable; and looking right well."
With a huge sigh of relief I flung myself out of the saddle.
"That'll do," I said, "Mrs. Symonds; I don't want to hear another word,
unless it relates to--ham and eggs."
Truly, I fear that the neat-handed Phillis must have been aweary that
night before she had satisfied Gargantua. A messenger soon summoned
Shipley, and he was with me before midnight; he explained all his
movements satisfactorily, and I could not but acknowledge he had acted
throughout discreetly and well. We sat far into the morning, discussing
future plans. Ultimately it was settled that he should start with the
roan, so soon as the animal should be rested and fit for the road,
traveling by moderate stages, to some resting-place near Oakland. The
rendezvous was to be determined by information he would receive in those
parts; and I was to be advised of it by a letter left for me in
Cumberland. Shipley reckoned that it would take him ten days at least to
make his point. This interval I was to spend in Baltimore; from which I
was to proceed, with my horse, to Cumberland, in the cars. This plan had
the double advantage of saving Falcon over two hundred miles of march,
and of enabling my guide to make his way, more securely, as a solitary
traveler. He could not trust himself on the railroad, nor would it have
been safe to attempt the transport of two horses.
So, on the following day, I made--anything but a triumphant--entry into
Baltimore. Kindly greetings and condolences could not enable me during
that last visit to shake off a restless discontent--a gloomy distrust of
the future--a vague sense of shameful defeat.